


Slow Motion

by mingowow



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gyuhao, most of the other boys make an appearance too, or as actual gyuhao, the boys deserve a break and some lighthearted fun, this could be totally read as purely friendship, your choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9577010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mingowow/pseuds/mingowow
Summary: Some moments happen in slow motion. In a life where everything flies by and the months seem like days, where your eyes are closed for mere seconds when you finally get to lay your head down to sleep... it’s a welcomed change.





	

**Author's Note:**

> just a quick little gyuhao fic for you! this was something light and cute that i have been wanting to write for a while. i normally prefer writing au stuff but this has been on my mind so i wanted to get it out.
> 
> it's inspired by someone saying they saw jun playing around in the snow one day and that made me feel pretty emo about the boys.
> 
> unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine; i apologize in advance! hopefully you enjoy it and let me know what you think!!

Some moments happen in slow motion. In a life where everything flies by and the months seem like days, where your eyes are closed for mere seconds when you finally get to lay your head down to sleep... it’s a welcomed change. 

Minghao wonders how many hours he’s spent in a van. He wonders how many days they’ve spent in the practice rooms and studios. The numbers would put a shame to the amount of time they’ve actually spent in their beds.

So in all this time, when the clocks stretch far past 3 AM during practice and they wake up before the sun rises, everything flies by. He blinks and it’s the end of the week, another show, a new studio session. The slow motion moments are rare, but they are so treasured.

Sometimes he forgets how old (young) he is. There are times where he wonders what happened to youth until he realizes he's still within it, between the stages and practices and award shows. They all feel that way, he thinks, based on how often half of them pass out whenever they have a moment to spare and the rest look forward, dead-eyed or delirious or occasionally both. 

It’s unimaginably early and the sky is still black when they pile into the vans. Vernon dozes off beside him, his lips slightly parted and head tilted back and a piece of Minghao wants to pull his cheek comfortably against his shoulder. The exhaustion is clearly etched onto all of their faces, covered in make-up and genuine (albeit tired) smiles. They are so lucky, so unbelievably lucky, and he knows this, they all do. He wonders if they will always feel like that. He hopes so. 

The sky is foggy and gloomy when it lightens and as they pop out one by one, a crowd of cameras and reporters awaiting their arrival, it starts to snow, just light little dustings of flakes that stand out against the darkness of jackets and hair. Everyone seems unfazed by it, still half-asleep and programmed on auto-pilot. 

The cold is so bitter, the kind that seeps into your fingers, down to the bone and then up the lengths of your arms. It's numbing when it should be awakening, like the time a gaggle of them dumped ice water on Jihoon when he wouldn't get out of bed and he suddenly sprung up like a rocket. But instead of the bite giving them an extra bounce in their step, it has them curling into themselves and each other, pulling up hoods and tightening the hold their jackets have on their torsos. It makes them want to sleep for days straight because sleep has been such a hard commodity to obtain these days. Coups even told their manager that morning that he would give up meat for a month if they could sleep in one day. He wasn't joking.

They're lined along the backside of the vans, blocked from fans and photographers, awaiting further instructions. It's too cold to be standing pointlessly outside, as Seungkwan points out by leaning his forehead against the window of the van as if peering into it will magically transport him back inside. The rest of the members seem dazed, kicking at imaginary rocks on the ground or bouncing on their heels to keep the blood flowing, butMinghao catches motion from the corner of his eye.

Back behind the last van, hidden from the view of the public, Mingyu does a slow spin with his arms stretched upward. He swats at the snowflakes like a cat pawing at a string, this strange look of amusement etched into his features. Minghao notices how the snow has picked up and the white gathers in the strands of his hair.

The sight reminds him of a child experiencing its first snowfall (or perhaps a clumsy puppy preoccupied with a brand new toy). Mingyu's long arms stretch up and swat at the snowflakes, up on tiptoes, as if he's trying to smack them out of the sky. Suddenly his thrashing stills and he turns his palms upwards, carefully maneuvering them to catch the falling snow in his open hands, as if the flurries won't melt instantly.

It's one of those cinematic moments where the outside noise filters itself out and Minghao’s peripheral vision fades to black. Everything slows, but not comically; it's sincere and beautiful, like it's his mind's way of taking in every piece of the scene in front of him so he can commit it to memory.

Mingyu’s smile is wide and toothy (the best kind there is, Minghao thinks) and the apples of his cheeks and tip of his nose are tinged pink. He looks so happy and innocent and _young_ and Minghao remembers then that he's just as young too.

His feet carry him closer to his best friend and it's an unconscious decision to reach out and take hold of his hand, lacing their fingers. He can feel the cool melted snow pressed between their palms and the way Mingyu's laughter rings out so purely has him laughing too. It’s the kind that rumbles in his chest and has him leaning over, his warm cheek pressing against the coolness of the taller boy’s jacketed shoulder. Maybe it’s because they are tired but he feels so elated in the moment that he doesn’t question its origin.

Their ruckus seems to catch the attention of the other members because Minghao can hear Hoshi’s distinguishable laugh and when he looks back over at them, DK has his head tilted back and tongue stuck out, ready to catch any falling snow he can. Jeonghan’s arms are wrapped around a reluctant Dino, ruffling the wet snow from his dark hair despite his protests. Even Jun and Wonwoo are in on it, smiles stretched across their faces as they watch Dino break free and bolt.

When he looks back at Mingyu, he’s met with eyes staring straight at him, somehow smiling on their own. 

“What?” Instead of replying, Mingyu lifts his free hand up and gently brushes his fingertips along the other’s eyelids, causing him to flinch and jerk his head back. “What are you doing?”

“You have snowflakes caught in your eyelashes.”

“It’s fine. They’ll melt, you fool.” Mingyu just grins at him again, all canines and pink cheeks, swiping his hand along his eyes again. This time though, Minghao doesn’t pull away.

It’s tiring and time never stills for long, but these moments are the kind that keep them going. They occur sporadically, randomly, in waiting rooms and at restaurant tables and standing outside in the snow holding hands with your best friend. It will pass and they will carry on with their day, sleep deprived yet excited, and they will do it all again the next day. But he knows none of them would trade it all for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on twitter and tumblr @mingowow :)


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